


Minutes

by Syrum



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, More tags to be added, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-26 09:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: No one knows why, but everyone ends up - at some point in their lives - with a timer on their wrist.Kuroo is twelve years old when he gets his.  It's a little bit frightening, but a little bit exciting too.Now all he has to do is wait the three and a bit years until he can meet whoever is on the other end, and hope nothing goes wrong in the interim...





	1. Volleyball

**Author's Note:**

> I know, another multi-chapter, I'm sorry.

No one is born with it. Yet at some point, at some time in their lives, a countdown timer will appear on the non-dominant wrist of every person on earth. Sometimes it will appear in the formative years, as an infant develops into a person all of their own with thoughts and fears and loves and hates and  _ dreams. _ Oftentimes, the ever-shifting digits will not appear until their teenage years, as emotions shift, driven by hormones and a world they’re just about starting to understand. For some unlucky few, their timer won’t appear until well into adulthood, counting down to an inevitability that cannot be avoided.

It’s known to have triggered more than a few divorces.

It isn’t truly known why the difference in timer appearance varies so widely, though the generally accepted theory is that as a person grows, they shift into a different person, their experiences and the influence of those around them causing an evolution in their personality until they change from someone who isn’t compatible, to someone who is.  _ Every seven years _ is the general consensus - which might be why those with seven years or more on their timer had such a high vanishing rate.

Because if you fell out of alignment with the person on the other end of that timer, it would simply disappear.

Kuroo Tetsurō’s timer appeared on his left wrist when he was twelve years old. His new junior high school was too large and too loud and he was quiet enough that no one seemed to pay him any mind as he pushed through crowds of older students handing out fliers for clubs he had no interest in, their unfamiliar eyes passing over the too-small too-quiet dark haired child with the messy hair.

“Hey, kid.” A hand on his shoulder, and Tetsurō found himself staring up into kind brown eyes and a smiling face. The guy must have been nearing six feet tall, and Tetsurō almost staggered back, his own tiny frame dwarfed by the older boy. “You ever played volleyball before?”

He hadn’t, of course. He’d played football back in elementary school, and he was pretty fast on the track when he really tried, but Tetsurō was pretty small for his age and as thin as a rake. That alone ruled out most contact sports, and the thought of trying something like basketball or volleyball was almost laughable.

But, this third year - was he a third year? He was certainly tall enough - had spotted Tetsurō when none of the other sports clubs had spared the tiny twelve year old a second glance. He was trapped under that soft gaze, and before he truly realised what he was doing, Tetsurō was shaking his head and muttering a soft  _ ‘no’ _ that earned him a blinding smile and set his heart thudding frantically inside his chest as he was steered gently over to a table and prompted to fill in a form.

“Just give it a try.” The third year murmured, as the girl manning the table offered an equally kind smile and pressed a pen into his small hand. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stick around.”

So he did. The same day, in fact, as Tetsurō found himself chattering away to the third year who had found him - Ryō - and the second year girl at the volleyball club table - Aki. A few others came by, either to sign up or to see how recruitment was going, but Tetsurō paid them little mind. He should, perhaps, have been spending his time with his own classmates, but he didn’t  _ know _ any of them yet, and Ryō’s smile was infectious.

It was  _ nice. _ Pleasant in a way that Tetsurō hadn’t really experienced outside of his friendship with Kenma. Ryō and Aki didn’t seem to mind that he was quiet, a bit too shy and lacking in some of the societal norms expected from a child of his age. It didn’t seem to  _ matter _ for once, and before he knew it lunch time had arrived and Tetsurō was being steered towards one of the looming buildings as the club recruitment started to die down as people wandered off to find food.

The gymnasium, he realised belatedly, as he slipped his outside shoes off along with the others. Tetsurō didn’t have his own gym shoes with him, but after a moment Aki pressed a pair into his hands with a grin - and when, exactly, had she vanished? - and he quickly shoved his feet into the white shoes. They were a little too big, but not uncomfortable, and when he finished tying the laces he looked up to see Ryō beckoning him over to the side.

“Since you’ve never played before, let’s see how you do with a bit of help.” Ryō grinned down at him, pulling his long hair back into a ponytail. In the middle of what he realised was slowly turning into a volleyball court, some of the second years who had joined their little group a while back had started setting up the net, and Tetsurō stared wide-eyed as a yellow and blue ball was pressed into his too-small hands.

Ryō - the team captain, Tetsurō eventually found out - was endlessly patient with him. Other club members filtered in periodically, and after a while Aki - as the club manager - had to run back to the table. They needed to try and find a few more members before the day was done, yet still Ryō stuck by his side. After a while, more first years appeared, just as timid as Tetsurō had been and not all that much bigger. They practiced, they  _ learned _ , and by the time they were done Tetsurō was grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Kuroo.” Satō, another first year, called out to him and Tetsurō whipped his head around to look, dark hair flopping into his eyes. “Catch!” He barely had time to put his hands up before the volleyball impacted with his palms and he grabbed at it, almost dropping the thing.  _ “Nice!” _ Satō grinned at him and Tetsurō laughed at his ridiculousness.

_ Friends. _ He had friends!

Later, he would blame his distraction on the elated feeling in his chest, the way his head spun with happy emotions that he hadn’t really known he had longed for.  _ Friends! _ He didn’t spot the flickering numbers immediately, not until he raised his arms with every intention of dropping the volleyball back in with the others as they cleared away their mess. They were stark against his skin, shimmering and gold as they counted down from a number too large for him to really comprehend.

The ball hit the parquet floor, bounced twice, then rolled towards the corner. Tetsurō stared.

His wrist. Numbers.  _ Numbers! _ He had his numbers! How was he supposed to react to this? Tetsurō was certain he was meant to be happy, but all that lingered was an odd feeling of confusion as the gold digits counted down.

_ “Dude!” _ Satō was at his side, peering down at his wrist. The gym seemed to have gone very quiet for the moment, and it was with a growing sense of mortification that Tetsurō realised all eyes were on him. “Man, your number is  _ way _ smaller than mine.” Satō pulled his sweatband off his wrist, revealing deep green numbers that were barely legible with how small they were.

“Yeah.” Tetsurō replied, too quiet, hands shaking as he tried to wrap his head around too much all at once.


	2. One Down

_ “See? These bigger ones are the minutes, and the little ones are the seconds.” Kenma explained, tracing thin fingers over the golden shimmer on Tetsurō’s wrist. “Didn’t your parents ever talk to you about it?” _

_ “No, they didn’t.” Tetsurō replied, with a slow shake of his head, staring down at the too small numbers on his too small wrist. “I mean, I knew I’d get them one day, but after Mother left-” _

_ “Yeah, I guess.” Kenma nodded, letting Tetsurō pull his hand back. “Wait, let me get my calculator, we can work out when you’ll meet them.” Rummaging in his desk drawer for a moment, Kenma returned with the calculator in hand, flopping back down on the bed next to Tetsurō. _

_ “D’you think they’ll like me?” He finally asked, letting Kenma take hold of his wrist again to see the numbers. He wasn’t afraid of the answer, not really, but that didn’t stop the bubble of nervous tension from gathering in his stomach. _

_ “Probably.” Kenma wasn’t looking at him, too busy working something out on his fingers as he punched numbers into the worn plastic of his calculator. “Most people like you, if you let them. What do you think made them appear?” _

_ “Dunno.” A lot had happened that day - new school, new teachers, new  _ ** _friends!_ ** _ He’d joined the volleyball club and loved it, the sport quickly shifting from a curiosity to an obsession and Kenma had been dragged along for the ride whether he liked it or not. _

_ Because next year would be Kenma’s year, and just joining the volleyball club wasn’t going to be enough for Tetsurō. No, he was going to make absolutely certain that the younger boy completely blew all the other first years out of the water. _

* * *

He had, of course. Tetsurō had dragged Kenma out to practice with him near-constantly, much to his friend’s irritation, and by the time the following year rolled around Kenma had blossomed into a player who could make Tetsurō really work for each ‘win’ when they played a modified one-on-one.

The year had been good for Tetsurō as well; he had made more friends, opening up to the people on the team first, then further, meeting friends of friends and growing in confidence until he could smile and laugh and joke and push the self-conscious fear to the back of his mind for a little while. Only around those he trusted, and never for too long - it was  _ exhausting _ \- but he was improving, slowly. He had  _ grown _ too, catching up to his peers and then, over the spring break before the start of his second year, overtaking them.

He was the tallest in his class when the new year began, and Tetsurō  _ hated  _ it. It was great for volleyball, sure - but it made him a target, and Tetsurō wasn’t quite ready to deal with that just yet.

“Morning, Miki.” Tetsurō waved politely to the girl he sat next to, dumping his bag on his desk with a thump. Immediately she was out of her seat, breaking away from her group of friends and all but  _ squealing _ at him in her excitement, shoving her wrist in his face.

_ “Look!” _ He took hold of her arm and pushed it far enough back that his eyes could actually focus on the numbers there. They were a mottled brown, and Miki shifted from one foot to the other. “I got my numbers!”

“Nice.” He replied with a grin, letting go of her arm as she bounced back over to her friends, who continued to coo over the digits. It hadn’t been a big number, under half a million, and Tetsurō was almost jealous as he thumbed over his own ever-reducing numbers.

Less than a year for Miki to meet her perfect match, then. No wonder she was so excited.

When Tetsurō’s had appeared, over a year ago, they had numbered almost two million. Now, in his second year of junior high, they had steadily counted down to just over one-point-two million minutes.

One-point-two million minutes. Almost two and a half years to wait for the person he should be the most compatible with to walk into his life - provided nothing went wrong, in the interim. It wasn’t unheard of for timers to change; for circumstances that could never have been planned for to change the course of someone’s life so completely that their match no longer ‘fits’. Numbers can go up as well as down, can shift unpredictably or vanish entirely. Death, accidents, even something so simple as moving house can cause two fated individuals to step out of sync with one another and it is impossible to say which is the cause when the numbers plummet to zero for a brief moment before vanishing entirely.

Tetsurō had spent the past year trying desperately not to think of his Father. Of the numbers he still remembers, the ones that hadn’t matched his Mother. Of how they had simply vanished one Saturday afternoon where years had remained just that morning.

Their family fell apart, after that.

“You got yours last year, right?” One of Miki’s friends - Sakura, maybe? Tetsurō hadn’t really paid much attention when he was introduced - leaned against his desk and tapped two fingers against his wrist. He flinched at the contact, though only barely, and she didn’t seem to notice.

“Yep, first in the class.” Pulling his shirt sleeve back with what was starting to become a trademark smirk, hiding the bubbling anxious feeling in his chest a little too well, he bared his numbers for the girl to see The golden digits seemed to glow in the morning light. “Pretty cool, right?”

“Aren’t they meant to match the eyes of the person you’re fated for?” Sakura asked, as the rest of their group leant over to look - and, really, they’d all seen his numbers already, why was he suddenly the centre of their attention? “Who the hell has gold eyes?”

“Sakura, that’s a bit rude.” A taller girl with long brown pigtails and glasses elbowed her friend in the ribs - ah, so he had gotten her name right after all. Good.

“I think it’s pretty.” Miki chimed in as a couple more girls joined, crowding around his desk. The bell would chime shortly and they would need to take their seats - or, in the case of Sakura and her long-haired friend, return to their own classroom - and he would be left alone again. It was  _ fine,  _ he was fine, the familiar flutter of panic at being so closely scrutinised rising up in his chest.

He was past this. Tetsurō had come a long way in just over a year, his personality shifting from the shy boy who barely spoke to anyone and who would rather hide away indoors than interact with other human beings, into a gangly teenager who understood social constructs and could mostly command the attention of a crowd.

Albeit, only for a short time.

“Isn’t there a girl on the baseball team with gold eyes?” Pigtails wondered aloud, pushing her round glasses further up her nose. “Sasaki, I think?”

“Oh, yes!” Miki clapped her hands together in glee, somehow more excited about the prospect of finding Tetsurō’s golden-eyed match than in her own newly-formed numbers. “Sasaki Mei, she’s on the student council. I helped her with the cultural festival leaflets last year, she’s a third year now.”

Sakura opened her mouth to speak just as the bell sounded and Pigtails - he should probably find out her name, at some point - dragged her friend from the room. Miki and the other girls in their class reluctantly slid back into their seats as their homeroom teacher stepped into the room to take attendance for the day. As he answered to the call of his name, Miki slid a scrap of paper across and under his hand, which Tetsurō gripped tightly for a moment until he was certain he wasn’t being watched.

_ ‘You should go talk to Sasaki - see if your timer goes down’ _

There was also a crudely-drawn face that Tetsurō was certain was supposed to be winking at him, and he snorted before shoving the note into his bag and turning his attention back to the teacher.

* * *

It hadn’t been Sasaki Mei. She was nice enough, when Tetsurō went to speak with her at lunch - he hadn’t really expected to find his match that easily, or that soon, and not knowing anything about the girl beforehand certainly helped with the nerves he knew he would be feeling if he pondered on his decision for too long.

Sasaki was a pretty girl with jet black hair and hazel eyes flecked with yellow. They weren’t gold, not by a long shot, and her own numbers hadn’t appeared yet she had said. She told him his numbers were pretty, wished him luck and waved as he wandered back to his own class in time for the afternoon lessons to start.

He told Kenma about it, of course; despite the year between them, and all of the people he had met in his time at the school, he still considered Kenma to be his best friend, and they both knew that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“I’m actually proud of you.” Kenma smiled up at him as they walked home, side by side. It was an odd, soft expression that was as adorable as it was a little wonky - and one that had seen the smaller boy bullied at his elementary school. It didn’t quite fit on his face yet, and Tetsurō knew he was lucky to be one of the few who ever saw it. “I didn’t think you would want to talk to her.”

“It’s no big deal.” Tetsurō huffed, scrubbing at his messy hair with one hand in vague embarrassment. “I mean, I knew before I went that she wouldn’t be a match, but Miki doesn’t leave things alone when she gets an idea in her head.”

“Still proud.” Kenma replied, bumping against his side. “You wouldn’t have done something like that a year ago.”

“Yeah, probably.” Nodding in agreement, he tugged at Kenma’s arm until they swapped places, putting himself next to the road as a car blared past a little too close and a little too fast. “Hey, you wanna go to the arcade for a bit?” They were both tired from practice, had homework to do and would likely end up getting chewed out by their respective parents for being late for dinner - but still, Kenma nodded, and Tetsurō dragged him off towards the subway station with a grin.

He could handle being around  _ people _ for a little while longer.


	3. Milestone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has changed quite a lot from what was initially intended! It does mean this might end up being a six chapter fic in the end, but we'll see.
> 
> Enter, Bokuto :3

Tetsurō couldn’t sleep.

Gold flickered against his skin, rendered pale in the moonlight streaming through his open curtains to bathe Tetsurō’s room in a soft glow. The numbers had been steadily reducing over the past two years -  _ over  _ two years, by that point, and as he watched they trickled down past the next milestone.

Less than five hundred thousand minutes left on a timer that had seemed endless when it first appeared.

He perhaps shouldn’t be this invested in something which might, in the end, mean very little. Though in his defence, he hadn’t paid all that much attention to the numbers recently - his third year in junior high had been frantic right from the start. Classes were getting more difficult, he seemed to be spending more time than ever studying - not to mention the amount of time spent practicing with the volleyball team, attending matches,  _ winning _ tournaments.

Less than a year to graduation, and he would need to start thinking about which high school he wanted to attend very soon. Somewhere nearby, certainly - travelling any distance regularly was an expense that he didn’t want to push onto his father, and until he could get a part time job he wouldn’t be able to pay his way. In fact, depending on the school he attended, he might not be able to  _ have _ a part time job until he graduated at eighteen.

He needed to stick around to help with his grandparents, too. They still managed to do pretty much whatever they wanted, and his grandmother still worked part time at the flower shop around the corner - mainly, she said, because being around his grandfather all of the time would drive her crazy - but they were still getting on in years, and who knew how much longer they would be able to continue in this way? Without his mother on the scene and as an only child he couldn’t leave everything to his father to manage.

Then there was Kenma to think of; Tetsurō couldn’t imagine going anywhere without his best friend, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Kenma probably wouldn’t bother with high school at all if he didn’t have Tetsurō there to make sure he went. Kenma’s parents were a little better off than his own family, but not by much, so that needed taking into account too.

Finally, there was the issue of his numbers. If Tetsurō did something outlandish - going to school across the country, or another country entirely - he could set into motion a series of events which took him from the path that had been decided for him. If that happened...he didn’t want to think about the numbers dropping and vanishing, because of some stupid decision he had made.

But then, what if he was  _ supposed _ to make some stupid decision? What if meeting his match hinged entirely on his high school decision?

No, that wasn’t likely. It wasn’t  _ unheard _ of, but it wasn’t likely. The path to meeting a destined match was almost always the easiest one, hence why they were considered ‘destined’ in the first place. Tetsurō would stick around the Tokyo area, keep as much the same as possible, and hope that their timers matched up as they were supposed to.

Maybe even at the high school he picked.

There were two on his radar; Nekoma High and Fukurōdani Academy were both excellent schools, with strong volleyball teams that would ensure Tetsurō’s growing skill in the game was as thoroughly utilised as possible - he couldn’t imagine going to a school that  _ didn’t _ have a team, not at that point. His house was also close enough to both to make the commute possible, and he had met the coaches for both teams at a training camp he had dragged Kenma to a few months back.

He had spoken to both coaches, in turn - even if he had been rendered speechless most of the time, the familiar anxiety brewing in his chest as he stumbled over his words and regressed back to the awkward child he was trying to run from. Nekoma’s coach had been warm, open in a way that Fukurōdani’s hadn’t. And his words had  _ stuck, _ somehow - that nothing was more important than the absolute  _ joy _ of playing.

It resonated with him. Stuck in his head and bounced around until it was all he could think about. It felt  _ right. _ He knew in his heart that he had made his decision - had made it months ago, in all likelihood, and yet-

_ What if it was the wrong one? _

Tetsurō stared at his numbers, a clock counting down to a future he desperately wanted to race towards.

* * *

“Dude, how can you be so hyper this early in the morning?” Bokuto Kōtarō simply grinned in response, thumping Tai on the back and making him stumble a little as they walked the short distance from the bus stop to the school gates.

“Because today’s gonna be  _ awesome. _ ” He replied, the smile on his face having been fixed in place ever since he had woken up and seen the newly-leading four that decorated his wrist in place of the five that had been there the night before. He had slept like a baby, hadn’t really thought about the passing of another milestone until the numbers were  _ right there _ and he could run his thumb over them reverently.

“For you, maybe - did you even revise for the test we’ve got in modern history?” And they both knew that he  _ hadn’t, _ because Kōtarō was entirely incapable of revising alone. Even with another person to coax him into doing the necessary work - usually Tai, their friendship having been cemented some time in elementary school - his attention span was short enough that focus came and went.

“Nah, I’ll do that at lunch.” Shoving his sleeve back, Kōtarō took another look at his numbers, checking they hadn’t vanished in the past few minutes. “You’ll help me study, right Tai?” That earned him a good-natured shove, which Kōtarō returned in kind, other students giving them a wide berth as they messed around on the pavement.

“I swear, she’d better be seriously pretty to make up for having to deal with you these past two years.” Tai grumbled, though there wasn’t any heat in it.

_ Oh. _

Kōtarō stopped dead, a first year almost running into his back and having to side-step quickly with a low curse. His expression dropped, face going oddly neutral as that particular thought worked its way through his head. Because he hadn’t even  _ considered _ that before. It hadn’t occurred to him that his intended might be-

“What’s up with you?” Kōtarō turned his attention back to his friend, yellow eyes wide as something seemed to  _ click,  _ almost audibly, into place.

“What if-  _ what if they are?” _ He looked so strangely  _ lost _ for a moment, and the expression seemed so foreign on his face, so out of place it was almost frightening.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“My soulmate, what if they  _ are _ a pretty girl?”

“Don’t call it that, that’s corny.” Tai wrinkled his nose in displeasure, turning to face his friend as Kōtarō seemed to shrink in on himself a little. It was  _ disconcerting,  _ seeing his normally-energetic best friend like that - he didn’t like it. “Just say ‘intended’ like everyone else. And anyway, wouldn’t that be a  _ good _ thing?”

“I hadn’t even thought about it.” Kōtarō’s voice had dropped down to scarcely a murmur, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I’d just always assumed they’d be a boy.”

“Dude, are you  _ seriously coming out to me right now?” _ Tai huffed out a laugh, throwing his arm around Kōtarō’s neck and dragging him along without protest. “You have seriously shitty timing - we’re going to be late if you don’t move your ass.”

“Coming out-” Kōtarō’s steps slowed and Tai hauled him forward, keeping their pace brisk. “Huh. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“How do you get better test scores than me when you’re this dense?” Tai muttered, a little happier when Kōtarō’s own arm looped up over his own shoulder, their heads kept close together so they could talk without fear of being overheard. “I know we don’t talk about this stuff, but you do you. I don’t care who you love, just don’t try to kiss me and we’re cool.”

“Like I’d kiss your ugly mug.” Kōtarō shoved his friend off him and set off running, his laughter carrying back on the breeze and dragging an amused huff from Tai, mouth shifted into a wry smile. With a yell, he set off after Kōtarō, bag smacking against his legs as they dodged through the other kids, racing towards the school gates.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Discord group, it's very empty, come give me love - https://discord.gg/vaANQ6A


End file.
